'Computer Vision Syndrome': A Poem by Victoria Iacchetta

COMPUTER VISION SYNDROME

I like to isolate your heart from your logic, so that

I can convince your heart to take me to Friendly’s.

We can share a caramel cone sundae and cheese

fries. Then, after we leave, we can sit in my car

and talk about what we want to do with our lives,

when we’re older and not just 23. Your logic will

discuss its monetary interests: grow rich, own the

world, retire young, travel. In that order. But, my heart

and logic are conjoined at the aortic valve, and I’ve

decided that I want make sure that I remember the

pendant of Arwen, and how it looks pretty cool as the

handle of a dagger. I’ve made no plans for tomorrow,

so I could go to work and make $28.00 an hour, but

money won’t matter when I’m dead, and my body

should decompose within 12 years, as long as it’s buried

in the dirt, rather than kept in a velvet-lined coffin. Why

not spend the money I made yesterday on another tattoo?

Money stops mattering when a heart stops beating, but

tattoos will matter for at least twelve years after that, and

besides, I’d really like to share a caramel cone sundae and

cheese fries with you before this is all over.

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Victoria Iacchetta is a decently young Puerto-Rican & Italian-American woman living in Buffalo, NY. Here, she mostly writes from a place of passion. Her poem, "American Girl Doll", was published in Ghost City Press's June 2019 Issue. Other works have been previously published in Peach Mag and Bottlecap Press.